Tim Stevens of Granger Church had an interesting post recently called "How To Leave Your Church." Written for lay people from the perspective of a staff person, the post is worth reading for the lengthy comment section alone.

But it got me thinking . . . what about the opposite perspective? How should pastors and other church staffers react when people leave the churches they serve?

Through the years I've had a range of reactions: despair, self-loathing, anger, confusion, and, on occasion, relief.

And by and large, I have tried to follow the best piece of advice a District Superintendent ever gave me: "When you want to get the last word in . . . don't."

Oh, I've had those "last word" speeches all rehearsed in my mind. I've relished the thought of giving them. I've even put a couple of them on paper.

But by God's grace I have refrained from delivering those speeches. Mostly.

You know why that restraint is so vital?

Because sometimes those who leave . . . come back. And those can be the most meaningful of relationships. We've had a nice collection of people return to Good Shepherd in just the last couple of months. Some had been gone a short time; others for five years or more. Some just wandered away & others had very specific objections to the direction of the ministry.

But God is sovereign. And something in our church and something in the hearts of those people directed them "home."

So the last words never spoken became the first words of welcome.

I don't know if I heard it somewhere or thought of it myself (probably the former, hopefully the latter), but in any event I wrote it down:

Ministry happens when your fear of disappointing God is greater than your fear of disappointing people.

Whew.

As a recovering "people pleaser," that thought is compelling. And challenging.

People are visible. God is invisible. People are clamoring. God is whispering. People threaten. God promises.

But we're all headed toward a one-on-one encounter with our Creator. He's the one whose voice and will need to ring loudest and strongest in my life.

Is ministry happening where you are?

Schadenfreude is such a great word. Borrowed from German, it means "satisfaction or pleasure felt at someone else's misfortune."

And pastors have it. In spades.

Sadly, our schadenfreude is usually directed at other pastors or ministries. We're not overt about it, mind you, but I can often detect a bit of glee lurking behind a request to pray for "fill-in-the-blank because he's really struggling in his ministry right now."

Or even the hidden satisfaction when someone shares the news with me: "Did you hear about fill-in-the-blank? Moral failure. He's out of the pastorate now."

In fact, just this week I found myself straining to overhear a conversation about struggles in another ministry. As if hearing about their struggles would be some sort of validation of my level of success.

It's sick, really.

Because the fact remains that God is never honored through the failures or struggles of other ministries & pastors. I sure don't think he's lifted up when Good Shepherd has seasons of difficulty!

So today I prayed that God will be so much bigger than my schadenfreude. I prayed that he would favor ministries about whom I have misgivings or for whom I feel jealousy.

All so that he would be honored, lifted up, and praised as the source of all that is good about pastors and churches.

And so that he would replace my schadenfreude with a heart for the kingdom.

July is the time of year when many, many Methodist pastors begin serving new "appointments" -- they have moved from one church in the connection to begin serving another.

So what's the best way for a new pastor to begin serving that "new" church? How does the pastor get a sense of the place, the people, the history, and the future of that congregation with which he or she has been entrusted?

(Note: I've only been through this twice in 20 years, have no intention of doing it again any time soon, so this is merely hypothetical.)

I once heard Kennon Callahan describe two different approaches to the dilemma.

Approach One: The pastor gathers groups of 10-12 people together over a period of several months. At each gathering, the pastor asks, "what are your dreams and visions for this church going forward?" Much marking on butcher block paper ensues.

Approach Two: The pastor gathers groups of 10-12 people together over a period of several months. At each gathering the pastor asks of individuals around the semi-circle: "tell me where you were born and what's happened since."

Dear God, let me be an Approach Two kind of pastor.

The first treats the congregation as an institution, concerned primarily with function, process, and accomplisment.

The second recognizes that the congregation is a collection of individuals, each of whom has fascinating mix of brokenness and beauty.

Tell me where you were born and what's happened since then.

Whether you are starting a new pastoral work or not, it's a question well worth asking.

You'll need your bible for this one.

To find out how to pull off a church barbecue, check here: Acts 29:13.

To read about the successful bake sale they had in Corinth, look here: II Corinthians 8:28-29.

To get biblical instructions for a profitable yard sale, study Colossians 5:1-7 in depth.

And the guidebook for the first-ever church pumpkin patch is in Ephesians 2:23-24.

Notice a pattern?

Now for God's one appointed fund raiser, you can legitimately look up I Corinthians 16:1-2.

That's it. That's what we do. Sunday morning offering. Nothing else. We don't waste your time, we don't drain your energy, we don't frustrate you with small appeals. Sunday offering.

And when it comes to those offerings in 2009, God has been doing things for which there is no explanation . . . except that God is doing them.